eling. Shuffling the deck, the time was careless – everyone would get one, then two, three, four cards…Equally. It made my skin crawl. It became clear to me: one would now get trumps, others – the sixes.
I was waiting. It was anybody’s guess what card was prepared to me. Not only people play games – the games are playing with people too. The action of that one was taking place an arms length away. Or, rather, just started to set in. I felt it in my bones, in every fiber of my being.
Having drawn up at the lights I was waiting with bated breath. Rain, dripping the windshield, turned the red light into an ill-shaped puddle. Heavy flat streams ran making their way down to earth. You see, I don’t know where and when I did learn to listen, feel and wait patiently. Maybe – in my previous life, about two hundred years ago, when my great-great-grandmother, being exiled to Siberia, all winter evenings long scanned the wild snow-covered taiga, the white wasteland, waiting for any changes. She strained her eyes and ears only to understand that her time is breathlessly silent. Her princedom was awakening in me setting blood hammering in temples. The unconquered proud seed thrown in a lean year had sprouted up to gain the enchantment. It was dawning in myself as a new life. Feeling it!
I looked around. A crowd of pedestrians in the very center of the megalopolis was already reaching the other side of the crossing. Knight, seven, king… Three, seven, ace…
A knock at the window made me jump. A stranger in the rain-soaked dark overcoat was making hands signals…Saluting or asking for a lift?
I hardly had time to react when things spiraled out of control. The stranger pulled the handle, opened the door and in a second had found himself in the seat next to me. Not looking at me he brushed a drop of rain from the tip of his nose. It seemed to me that like a wet cat he would now give a shake from head to toe, showering the interior with wet drops.
But the new fellow passenger seemed to be stiff with cold: he was hardly able to move. Quivering with cold, he slowly closed the side door behind him and said, apparently addressing to all the same:
– I’m cold – I’ve been waiting for you for more than an hour!
– Me???
Instead of his answer I heard moaning signals demanding to leave the crossroad. I floored the accelerator and shot out, probably, to myself:
– Going!
The car obeyed and started speeding up.
– Sorry! It seems to me, I was wrong! – dark-grey eyes of the stranger were gazing at me with astonishment, – Its raining… I was mistaken…
– Оp! – I raised my eyebrows in surprise and very nearly crashed into the car ahead!
Oversized «Lexus» had obstructed the view. How typical! Its better not to hurry!
– Jeep, but crawling as a cart… – I dropped and added to myself «…yoked with donkeys. Well, at least the plates are Roman «RES…1313…». Double thirteen… «RES»… Never believed in signs. Should have, maybe…
– Belts! – was my short order, when I decided to overtake the off-roader on the right and revved up.
But no such luck: «Lexus» has also moved to the right, keeping me behind.
I then drive on the wrong lane. Let it be so! A slingshot, two seconds in flight and I smoothly overtake this “tank” to give full swing to my car…
– Are you in a hurry?
His question makes me take a peek at the unexpected fellow traveler: he wipes his face with a handkerchief. His fingers tremble slightly. Yes, today it’s been pouring all day. I just nod, feeling his eyes are pausing on me:
– You are to get warm… – I turn on the heater, realizing that the guy is dead with cold. Our unceremonious talk brings us closer, as we both are, no doubt about it, Russians… I am not surprised to hear Russian speech here, in Rome. There are plenty of us here, but at night-time and in such weather… A guy? Yes, the guy does not look more than forty: thirty-five-thirty-six…
Silence.
Tossing my head, I glance at the rearview mirror: a pickup van follows at tail. The bright side lights of the foreign car are moving away, then approaching again. In their light, I cast a glance at the fellow traveler. A straight Roman nose, protruding forehead, cheekbones… He looks like… Or is he? By a characteristic sound, I understand that the pickup is overtaking us:
“Zero-zero weather!”
…And why today it came into my head to wear a white skirt! All people are in trousers or in jeans like my passenger… He seems to fall asleep. The hand with a wet handkerchief lies limply next to my right thigh, but does not make it cool, but in fact heats it… I feel it’s warm, oh boy! Though, I am more surprised with the handkerchief in his hand: not every man carries a clean handkerchief:
– Feeling bad?
– No, I’m just getting warmer…
A velvet, warm, confident baritone. And here is the answer – the glasses mark on the nose bridge. One always need a handkerchief to clean glasses… “Hes just confused my car with somebodys else one”… when took off his glasses in the rain. I hate myself! You must not predestinate everything in this way”… I turn away. The windshield wipers are barely able to drop the rain. Wet dirty-gray asphalt as a shapeless tape runs under the wheels.
– And it appears, I have recognized you… Where are you, actually, going to? My words and formal address should have brought him to life. And my answer to myself: “Well, anywhere, just not to be at a stop.” A living celebrity is next to me.
– Do you know me? My passenger smiled saucily. – My fan?
Yes, I know him. To put in other words – I’ve recognized him. His regular and irregular features, with something special and attractive, now and then make frequent appearances on TV, and glossies. How could I meet such a man in ordinary life?… Never. Especially, like this…
– Do you know me?
– Yes, Vlad… Is it Vladislav or Vladimir?
– Yes, – somehow vaguely dropped my companion, still getting warm. – I need to – to the city center, and then the airport. Sorry…
– That’s enough apologizing. Thing of the past. It will cost you – an autograph. Settled? – I began to choose where to turn.
– But you were driving somewhere, maybe were in a rush?
– I? I went home or a sort of home…
“You said a sort of home.” What is it?
– A sort of, means a s-o-r-t o-f.
– Your answer is similar to the weather in this city.
– Something wrong with it?
Vlad leaned back in his seat.
– Yesterday it was snowing, everything melted in the sun in the morning, but now it’s raining…
– It’s always like that in autumn. Were you freezing?
– Today is not the same as it was yesterday on film shoots… I was only in a shirt when it began to snow. They were shooting the scene of execution by firing squad. According to the scenario – it’s the heart of summer.
